“Do you need to get back to the farm? Are the goats okay?”
“It’s sweet you’re thinking of them. They’ll be okay for a while. I have a young woman from a neighboring farm who helps out. She checked on them an hour ago and texted they were fine.”
I nodded. “Well then…Fifties?”
He grinned. “Greasy diner?”
“My treat.”
His grin faltered a little. “I can pay my own way.”
“No one said you couldn’t—but I’m asking and you’re accepting. You can pick up the tab the next time.”Next time? Isn’t that a little overoptimistic? You haven’t even had one—
“Is this a date?”
I startled at his use of the word I had in my mind. “Do you want it to be?” I peered at him—willing him to accept.
His smile was wide and toothy. “Yeah, I think it might just be.”
I was about to respond when Damien sidled up to me. “You ready to go?”
“Uh—”
“You two came together?” Jarrod waved his hand between the two of us.
“I drove him, yeah.” Damien cocked his head. “Our daughters went to the movies together in his car. I didn’t feel like making him walk.”
Jarrod smiled. “So you’re a good friend?”
I gazed into Damien’s eyes, willing him to understand.
“Best of friends. I met him through his boss—my husband—but Anderson’s incredibly special to me and my daughters. We had it rough for a bit, but he helped smooth things out.” He offered me a wistful smile, then pivoted his attention back to Jarrod. “So yes, we’re friends.”
“Well, that’s great. He asked me to go to Fifties with him for dinner. Are you coming?”
For one panicked moment, I thought Damien might agree. Then I walked back the panic. He was a friend. He could be my wingman. Still, I waited to hear his answer.
He shook his head. “Lovely offer. My husband’s been minding my crockpot today. Anderson’s daughter Adele and my twins are all going to be home soon. We’re planning a big meal and then a sleepover.”
First, I’d heard of the sleepover. They weren’t uncommon—what with Adele being as much older sister as friend to Damien’s two.
He gave methatlook.
I nearly rolled my eyes.
He was clearing the decks for me, so to speak. Ensuring I had the house to myself should I wish a…gentleman caller.
My house was inherited from my mother. In all the years I’d lived there, I’d never once—not a single solitary time—brought a guy home.
Yet, in a heartbeat, I knew I could bring Jarrod home. “That’s kind of you.”
“There’s some new streaming thingy that dropped on Monday and the girls have been dying to see it. I figure a little more screen time—and maybe some extra popcorn—will be okay. We’re so close to the Christmas break anyway.” He gestured to my bag of gifts. “Want me to hide those?”
He had keys to my house and would be there to greet the girls anyway, so him taking them made sense. “Yeah, that would be great.” I arched an eyebrow. “Donotsample the pie.”
“You got pie?”
I laughed. “Mrs. Phelps has a soft spot for me. I got one from her special stash.”
